The planet had no official name — just a quiet little rock drifting in a forgotten arm of a minor star system, far from the usual chaos of collapsing empires or Ender tantrums. Its atmosphere was thick but breathable, gravity gentle enough to feel welcoming instead of punishing. Golden savannas rolled under a pale lavender sky, dotted with slow-drifting pollen clouds that shimmered like living auroras. The weather was perfect in that effortless, almost suspicious way the Unstable Universe sometimes allowed: warm breeze, soft sunlight, the distant rumble of thunder that never quite arrived.
Tiger was sprawled on his back in the tall grass near a shallow crystal river, one arm behind his head, the other lazily trailing fingers through the water. He wore mismatched scavenged clothes — a torn flight jacket over a threadbare shirt, boots that had seen better centuries. A half-eaten fruit the size of his fist rested on his chest. He wasn't doing much of anything, which was exactly the point. In a universe where everything came back anyway, doing nothing felt like the ultimate rebellion.
Then the sky cracked.
A white-hot streak tore through the clouds, trailing fire and ionized air. The impact came seconds later — a bone-rattling *boom* that flattened grass in a perfect circle a kilometer away. Dirt and steam exploded upward in a mushroom-shaped plume. Birds (or whatever passed for birds here) scattered in screaming spirals.
Tiger didn't even sit up. He just sighed, long and theatrical.
"...really?"
The crater smoked for a minute. Then a groan. Then movement.
A figure clawed its way out of the glowing pit. Skin sloughed off in wet sheets, then regrew in fast-forward — pink new flesh knitting over exposed muscle, hair sprouting in uneven tufts. Bones snapped back into place with wet cracks. Within thirty seconds she was whole again: average height, dark hair plastered with soot and river mud, wearing what used to be a sleek jumpsuit now reduced to charred rags. She blinked up at the sky, flexed her fingers, and grinned like someone who'd just won a bet with physics.
She spotted Tiger almost immediately.
Still lying there. Still eating his fruit.
Lily dusted herself off with exaggerated swipes, then sauntered over like she hadn't just pancaked into the planet at terminal velocity.
"You," she called, pointing a finger that still had faint scorch marks, "didn't tell me you had this *wonderful* planet."
Tiger finally tilted his head to look at her properly. One eyebrow lifted.
"...do I know you?"
"Nope!" She dropped down cross-legged beside him, close enough that her knee bumped his. "But you've got fruit, grass that doesn't try to eat you, and air that smells like actual weather instead of burnt wiring. So I'm claiming acquaintance rights."
Tiger chewed slowly, considering her. "You just fell out of orbit."
"More like got *yoinked* by your cute little gravity well. One second I'm minding my own business in the void, next second—whoosh—meteor time." She mimed the descent with both hands, complete with explosion sound effects. "Ten out of ten for drama, zero out of ten for landing grace."
He offered her half the fruit without looking. "It's sweet. Kinda tastes like regret, but the good kind."
Lily took it, sniffed, then bit in. Juice ran down her chin. She didn't wipe it.
"Regret's my favorite flavor," she said around the mouthful. "So what's the vibe here? You hiding from an Ender? Waiting for the next cycle to wipe the slate? Or just... vibing?"
Tiger shrugged. "Vibing. Mostly. Last time I tried hiding, Discipline showed up and turned my safehouse into a 90-degree angle prison for 'structural improvement.' Never again."
Lily laughed — loud, unselfconscious, the kind of laugh that echoed across the empty savanna.
"Fair. I once told Freedom he had commitment issues while he was mid-rant about cages. He threw me into a singularity. Took three subjective weeks to claw my way back out. Still mad he didn't at least buy me dinner first."
Tiger snorted. "Romantic."
They sat in companionable silence for a while. The pollen clouds drifted overhead like lazy ghosts. Somewhere far off, a herd of bioluminescent grazers moved in slow motion, their hides flickering like living lanterns.
Lily leaned back on her elbows, staring at the sky.
"So... you gonna share this planet or what? I mean, I already crashed here. Finder's keepers, meteor's droppers."
Tiger glanced sideways at her. "You planning to stay?"
"Until something more interesting falls out of the sky. Or until Love shows up and decides I'm competition for her next fixation. Whichever comes first."
He chuckled under his breath. "Bold of you to assume you're not already on someone's radar."
Lily turned her head, met his eyes. Her grin was all teeth and mischief.
"Oh, I'm counting on it. Keeps things spicy."
Tiger looked back up at the perfect, too-perfect sky.
"Welcome to the neighborhood, then."
She bumped his shoulder with hers.
"Call me Lily."
"Tiger."
They both laughed at the absurdity of names mattering at all.
Somewhere far above, in the cold dark between stars, something watched.
But for now — just for now — the planet stayed quiet, the weather stayed perfect, and two freshly-regenerated strangers shared fruit under a lavender sky, pretending the universe wasn't already counting down to the next disaster.